Love Will Tear Us Apart
by jugstheclown
Summary: Some memories are best left forgotten, but what happens when they come back to haunt us? AU future fic  Quinntana FRIENDSHIP, some Brittana/Quick
1. Part One: All In a Day's Work

**I couldn't decide whether to put this under Santana + Brittany or Santana + Quinn. I decided on Santana + Quinn in the end because although there are strong Brittana themes included in the story I'll most likely keep the focus around Santana and Quinn's experiences. **

**This is my first future fic and I'm really excited to see how readers of my other fic will like it as it's kind of the opposite in a lot of ways!**

**Anyway, here's part one, enjoy. **

* * *

It was literally a perfect day for a wedding. It was spring, but warm enough that the ceremony could be held outside in the bright sun, surrounded by new flowers and twittering birds. Quinn Fabray, knowing the couple well sat in the front row wringing her hands in anxiety. All of her friends from high school were sitting around her, chattering excitedly while she tried not to hyperventilate.

Eventually the talking died down as the band began playing the traditional wedding march. Everyone's heads whipped round to take in the sight of the bride walking down the make-shift aisle, Quinn's joined them and she didn't quite prevent a gasp escaping her throat.

Brittany strode confidently and happily towards the altar, a delirious smile plastered on her face looking absolutely beautiful and because it was Brittany, Quinn smiled too.

Then all too quickly she was at the altar; the vows began and Quinn's head began to swim, she couldn't believe this was happening. She tuned back in to what was happening in front of her just as the words "...do you take Brittany Susan Pierce to be your lawfully wedded wife?" were uttered by the priest.

"I do."

Quinn swallowed and she felt as though she was going to cry.

"And do you Brittany Susan Pierce, take Santana Lopez to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Brittany's smile if possible, grew wider. "I do."

And in that moment a single gunshot rang out and the world stopped spinning.

* * *

"Ms. Fabray, Ms. Fabray?" a voice was saying in her ear as a hand gently shook her shoulder. She opened her eyes slowly and with a euphoric rush of relief she realized the wedding, that goddamn wedding had been a dream. Her new secretary Rose was standing over her with a worried expression on her face.

"Sorry Rose, I had a late night. Did I miss something important?" Quinn mumbled, sitting up straight in her chair and taking the coffee Rose was holding out to her.

Rose had taken the job a few weeks ago after Quinn's last secretary had hit her big break on a prime-time television show, ironically through Quinn's rival agency. That had pissed her off. On the other hand, as timid and clumsy as Rose was Quinn could already tell she was dedicated and loyal, two qualities she wish were present in more people in her life. And she made near-perfect coffee, a quality she valued even more.

"Um, Rachel Berry called. She sounded kind of mad." Rose stuttered. Quinn closed her eyes and cursed loudly, she'd been wondering when Rachel was going to find out about Quinn passing on an audition she'd wanted to another client.

"How mad are we talking?" Quinn asked, blowing lightly across her coffee. Rose sat down in the chair opposite Quinn's desk and clasped her hands.

"You remember that time Noah Puckerman called in to that talk show she was on and pretended to be her imaginary girlfriend?"

Quinn shifted in her chair nervously, "Less mad than that time?" she asked hopefully.

"I'd say twice as mad." Rose replied.

"Fuck, I didn't realize she wanted the part so badly. Seriously though they specifically asked for tall athletic types, what did she want me to do? Put her on a steroid program and hand her a pair of stilts before the audition?" Quinn wondered aloud, half to Rose and half to herself.

"I don't know, I had to hold the phone away from my ear most of the time while she was talking to me or, or rather-"

"Talking at you, yeah I can imagine." Quinn finished for her.

"She threatened to find another agent." Rose continued, casting another worried look at Quinn. Her boss simply chuckled however and lifted a pen from her desk; wheeled her chair across to her noticeboard and added another stroke to a very long tally chart entitled 'Berry's attempted diva-strops'.

"Is that accurate?" Rose asked, gesturing towards the chart. Quinn looked closely as though searching for some sort of mistake.

"Forty... three. Yep, that's correct, this is the forty-third time she's threatened to replace me."

"Wow, do you think she ever will?" Rose asked with curiosity. Quinn gave another chuckle and picked up her phone.

"I've known the girl since high school, I doubt it. I'll call her back now." she replied, signaling that Rose give her some privacy.

"Sure thing Ms. Fabray." the girl said, standing up and smiling slightly. Quinn called her name just as she was about to shut the door.

"Yes?"

"Please Rose, call me Quinn. And thanks for the coffee."

"Sure thing, no problem Ms. Fab- I mean Quinn." with that Quinn was left alone in her sound-proofed office and she began dialing one of the many numbers she knew off by heart. When it rang out and she heard the answering machine however it wasn't the bossy tones of Rachel Berry greeting her ears.

"Hi, it's me. Are you working tonight? I need to talk to you, it's uh... it's kind of important. I'll try your cell later I guess, but call me back if you get this Santana."

* * *

  
When Santana Lopez awoke that afternoon the first thing she noticed was that she had new messages, the second thing she noticed was that Claire had left half of her clothing behind for the third time that month. Sitting up slowly she rubbed her eyes and squinted at her answering machine. Three new messages.

Her fat tabby cat lazed on the other pillow, Santana smiled and scratched her behind the ear. Woofer purred deeply and rolled over on to her stomach. Deciding she'd better listen to her messages when she was properly awake she stood up and stretched, then padded to the kitchen in her bare-feet and underwear. Claire had brewed a pot of coffee and it was still hot, Santana smiled. She knew she kept that girl around for a reason.

Pouring her first, but by no means last coffee of the day Santana sauntered in to her tiny living room and flicked on the television. Was that Rachel Berry on day-time T.V. again? She groaned and muted it, standing up again and walking back to her bedroom. Draining her coffee cup she pulled out fresh clothes and stepped in to her en-suite.

Half an hour later Santana stepped out of her shower, feeling refreshed and somewhat ready for her shift at Valerie's that night. As she slipped in to a pair of tight black jeans and an ivy-coloured tank top she remembered the flashing "(3)" on her answering machine.

Sitting down on her bed again she hit the play button and went about brushing her long, dark hair whilst Woofer pawed at her lap.

"Hi San, I think I left my bra at your place again. And my socks. And maybe my jacket." Claire's voice purred through the speaker, sure enough Santana saw the afore mentioned items scattered around her bedroom.

"I'm working tonight anyway, would you be able to swing by the club later if you're working the earlier shift?" the message continued, Santana hit the 'Next' button, knowing some sort of affectionate end to Claire's message was coming and not wanting to hear it.

"Lopez, it's Skillet. Would you be able to do me a huge favour and cover my shift on Saturday? I finally asked Sara out and she said yes to dinner, I'll owe you big time." the next message was shorter and Santana rolled her eyes

"Yeah I bet you will." she mumbled, standing up to get another coffee.

She'd almost forgotten about the last message but as she was about to walk through to the hall Quinn Fabray's voice met her ears and she whipped round, Quinn never left her messages. She knew Santana hated them and always waited till she was available on her cell or at work.

"Hi, it's me. Are you working tonight? I need to talk to you, it's uh... it's kind of important. I'll try your cell later I guess, but call me back if you get this Santana."

Santana frowned. What had she done this time? It wasn't even her fault the last time her and Berry had caused a scene, Berry goes to Santana's club, she plays by her rules. End of story. Though something in the tone of Quinn's voice hinted that it was more important than Santana getting Berry bad press somewhat intentionally.

She checked her watch. 15:37. Quinn always had her calls screened between two and four and Santana hated Quinn's secretaries by default. So she fumbled around in her bed till she found her cell and sent her a quick message before picking up her keys and shoes and heading out.

_'Hey Fabgay, I start work at 8, Joe's on the doors tonight so you can just head straight in and get me at the bar. See you tonight x'

* * *

  
_At 9:30PM Quinn stepped out of a cab and headed towards Valerie's, wincing as she always did at the already inebriated men loitering outside smoking. Santana's favourite bouncer Joe gave her a toothy grin as she approached and yelled at the line of people having IDs checked and such to stand the fuck back and let the 'pretty lady' through.

"Hey Joe, how are things?" Quinn greeted.

"Oh you know, same old wankers, different night." he replied. Quinn smiled, like Santana she loved Joe's London accent and dialect. "Is Santana busy?"

"N'more than usual I think."

"Alright, thanks." Quinn said and she stepped through the double doors in to LA's most infamous strip club. She spotted Santana immediately, which was surprising considering she was surrounded by no fewer than six of her regulars. For a bartender in a strip club she certainly got plenty of attention.

Making her way delicately through the crowd of men (and women) wolf-whistling and cheering at the women on stage Quinn tapped a regular named Steven on the back and he whirled around irritably. Upon seeing it was Quinn however he made a space for her at the bar and called Santana over.

"Hey Satan, Blondie is here." he said with a grin. When Santana didn't turn round immediately he added "And she wants to buy me a drink, the randy bitch!"

Quinn blushed but giggled nonetheless as Santana's head whipped round faster than the speed of light.

"Piss off Steven, you can flirt with Quinn later." Santana said affectionately as she made her way down to their end of the bar. "Hi." Quinn half shouted over the noise.

"I'm taking my break now Skillet!" Santana yelled behind her at a tall young man with more piercings than muscles.

"Sup Fabgay." she said more quietly, lifting up the bar and gesturing for Quinn to follow her in to the staff room. Quinn rolled her eyes and took a seat across the table from her best friend who had opened the window and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

"Firstly, stop calling me that. I'm not gay. Secondly, do you really have to smoke around me?" Quinn whined. Santana closed her lighter again but the cigarette she had placed between her lips remained dangling there.

"Firstly, I'm not the devil incarnate but I'm still stuck with the name. Secondly, what's this about?" Santana replied as she stretched her legs out and crossed her arms behind her head.

"I beg to differ, even your regulars know-"

"That's purely because of last year's Halloween costume." Santana interrupted with a scowl.

"Bullshit, you've had that name for years." Quinn countered. Santana threw a cushion from the patched sofa at her but Quinn ducked and continued speaking.

"It's about you and Brittany." she said quietly. Santana paused as she was closing the window and pushed it open again, fumbling for her lighter.

"What about us?" she asked, once she'd lit her cigarette and taken a long drag.

"I think you two might get back together." Quinn said, then immediately holding her breath. Santana frowned for a moment and inhaled another lungful of menthol smoke.

"That's not fucking funny." She spat.

"I- I just have this feeling." Quinn said lamely. Santana snorted and walked over to the refrigerator in the corner, pulling out two bottles of mineral water. She threw one to Quinn then took a gulp from the other before sitting down again.

"You're Quinn Fabray, you don't go by feelings." she said eventually.

Quinn toyed with the cap on her water and wouldn't meet Santana's eyes.

"When was the last time you saw Brittany?" she asked. Santana looked confused and took another sip of water before answering.

"Um, a couple of weeks ago or something? We went to see the new Harry Potter movie and got take-out afterwards."

"You two are so fucking weird." Quinn stated flatly, finally unscrewing her water and taking a drink.

"What do you mean?" Santana asked with an amused smile on her face.

"You spent four years of high school fucking every other night-"

"Five." Santana interrupted in a bored sounding tone.

"Five, whatever. And a year dating when we moved here, now you're both with other people and act like hanging out regularly is completely normal." Quinn finished looking irritated.

Santana looked thoughtful; stubbed out her cigarette and crossed her legs before answering.

"You didn't believe in contraception or using the word 'fuck' when we started high school, but you're hardly a devout Catholic now, things change. People change. And for the record I'm not 'with' anyone, I just like getting my chain yanked regularly."

"I'm a Protestant." Quinn replied shortly.

"Really? When did that happen?" Santana asked with genuine surprise in her voice.

"When we were eighteen. At your church. On my birthday." Quinn said rolling her eyes.

"My family's church." Santana corrected.

"I was never the religious type as you know."

"Whatever, you were still there." Quinn said curtly.

"Right okay I'm sorry, what does all this have to do with me and Brittany getting back together? I think I would know something about that." Santana replied, setting her water down on the table and lying full length across the sofa.

"It was a dream." Quinn confessed. Santana let out a groan.

"Another one of your fucking dreams Quinn? Really? That's why I'm spending my break listen to you natter on about Brittany instead of chatting with my girls?" she asked.

"They're not your girls." Quinn opted to point out instead of answering Santana's question.

"Claire is." Santana replied with a wicked grin.

"Clarissa? I thought you weren't dating."

"Oooh I love it when people use her work name in normal conversation, makes me feel so trashy. And sex isn't dating." Santana said with a smirk. Quinn rolled her eyes and took another sip of mineral water.

"Point is Satan-" Santana scowled at the nickname. "-that I'm usually right about this kind of stuff." Quinn said completely seriously. Santana sat up and stared Quinn down.

"Dreaming the Red Sox would lose three games in a row and it happening, does not make you a psychic." Santana stated bluntly.

"It was the Cubs actually ." Quinn corrected snidely.

"Whatever, I read that all psychics are just delusional." Santana retorted.

"You spend too much time on the internet."

"You spend too much time not getting laid." Santana said innocently.

"Whatever Santana, but when Arthur-"

"Asshat?"

"-calls me up to tell me him and Brittany have broken up, I have every right to say I told you so." Quinn said standing up and fastening her coat.

"Don't worry, I'll be too busy enjoying multiple orgasms courtesy of Claire while you're masturbating with your office supplies." Santana replied lazily as she too stood up.

"You're so gross, and I am not in my office that much." Quinn replied defensively with a look of disgust on her face.

"Whatever Fabgay, swing by on Saturday, I'm working the late shift." Santana said as she placed a strangely affectionate kiss on Quinn's cheek. Quinn pulled her in to a quick hug before exiting to the bar.

"It's your birthday this weekend you dumbfuck, everyone will be here on Saturday." she called behind her as she waved goodbye.

* * *

  
Six hours later Santana was being helped in to a cab by an attractive blonde woman in her early twenties.

"You drink too much at work sweetie." she whispered as she climbed in after her.

"That's because I can and you can't." Santana slurred, giggling slightly. Claire rolled her eyes and gave the cab driver Santana's address.

Santana leaned in to Claire as they drove on in silence. After a few minutes she poked Claire in the ribs and the other woman squealed. "Stop it! What is it? You're not gonna puke are you, because I'm really horny." Claire asked, tucking a strand of dark hair behind Santana's ear.

"Me? Puke? Bitch please." Santana said with another giggle.

"No, I was wondering if we could get some take-out on the way home."

"We're on the way home already, we'll be there in like two minutes." Claire answered patiently. Santana groaned.

"Right."

When they staggered slightly out of the elevator and in to Santana's apartment Claire noticed Santana had new messages on her answering machine almost straight away. Not in the mood for any interruptions however she began removing her clothes the moment Santana flung herself back on the bed with a satisfied sigh.

Claire slipped in between the sheets and pressed a kiss on to Santana's neck, who seemed to be revived by the contact and immediately flipped over on to her side and removed her own clothing with the other woman's help.

As Claire's experienced hands unhooked Santana's bra the bartender smiled for the millionth time at how easy the whole arrangement was. They had an understanding. They both liked sex and lots of it, Claire was hot, they got on well enough at work and their boss didn't give a fuck what they did as long as they didn't screw up the atmosphere at the club by dating and going through some messy break-up.

Through her drunken haze she remembered it takes two to tango and pushed Claire down on to the bed, pulling her hair back and nipping along her collarbone. A low moan escaped Claire's throat as her hips bucked and Santana lowered herself in between the blonde's open legs.

"Fuck San, it's been too long." Claire said huskily as Santana palmed one of her breasts.

"It's been twenty-four hours give or take." Santana replied with a bewildered tone, her hands working their way lower and lower down the other woman's body.

"Really? It feels longer." Claire replied, gasping as she suddenly felt Santana's deft fingers inside her. Santana didn't bother to reply and instead worked up a steady rhythm with her thumb on Claire's swollen clit, thrusting her other fingers in and out as the blonde raked her nails down Santana's back and whimpered.

It didn't take long for Santana to bring Claire to a shuddering climax and when she did she rolled over on to her side and mumbled a sleepy "Goodnight." once she had recovered Claire sat up.

"You're going to sleep?" she asked with confusion in her voice.

"I'm not in the mood, go to sleep." was all Santana said as way of an explanation. Still feeling confused Claire rolled on to the other side of the bed and fell in to a deep slumber.

* * *

  
When the alarm on her cellphone started buzzing, Claire automatically switched it off. Looking behind her she saw that the bed was empty. Strange, Santana rarely left her bed till at least noon, especially after drinking the night before. Her cellphone told her it was 10AM however and Santana was nowhere to be seen; judging by the lack of car keys on the bedside table she probably wasn't in the apartment at all.

After searching every room (Woofer glared at her when Claire disturbed her in the boiler cupboard) and brewing a pot of coffee Claire decided Santana had something to think about judging by her lack of interest in sex last night. She took her coffee back in to Santana's bedroom and wrapped herself in the sheets again, feeling cold.

She sipped her coffee slowly and wondered how many messages she would going home to later. Her eyes flicked to Santana's answering machine and she saw a vivid "(1)" glinting next to the New Messages label.

After the unexpected visit from Quinn Fabray at work last night and Santana's strange behaviour last night Claire couldn't help herself and hit the 'Play' button. A voice she recognized as Santana's ex filtered nervously through the speakers.

"Hi San, it's me. Brittany." There was a pause.

"I was wondering if you could meet me early on Saturday? I kinda want to talk to you about something, it's important. Call me back okay? Love you." After replaying the message three times Claire registered the surge of jealousy rising in her chest and took a deep breath.

She liked fucking Santana, she liked it so much she was willing to look past the fact that's all Santana wanted her for. But she didn't like fucking Santana enough to cater to that stupid ex of hers needs. Her hand hovered over the machine for a few minutes before she pressed down firmly on the delete button.

_You have no new messages._


	2. Part Two: Spinning Plates

**A/N: Thanks so much for the positive response to the part one. It'll probably be another week before part three is up I'm afraid but I wrote part two not far back and it just sort of spilled out on to the page. So I figured I may as well put it up while I'm making the final edits to part 3. :)**

**Enjoy! **

* * *

_L.A., Seven years ago._

"I don't care what you say about the name, those bitches in Valerie's totally loved it." Puck said triumphantly, cracking open a beer and lying back against Santana's legs. "Whatever, Bacon In My Locker Anytime is the worst name for an opening song in the history of music." Santana complained, draining her glass of jagermeister and reaching for the bottle to pour another.  
"To be fair, pleasing the regulars of a club like Valerie's is hardly a huge achievement." Quinn pointed out, nursing a gin and tonic.  
"It's a huge achievement when the synth player can't even handle four beers and trips on to stage." Pucked sneered, Quinn scowled and threw an empty beer can at him. Santana giggled deliriously at her friends before standing up to check on Brittany and Mike in the kitchen.

When she entered the dank room she noticed straight away that Brittany had built Mike another of her flawless pipe which he was inhaling deeply from as Brittany held a lighter to the cannabis burning brightly in the socket.  
"Can you remember to open a fucking window when you do that shit in here at least?" Santana asked crossly, striding over to the window above the sink and swinging it open. She turned to Brittany and noticed the blonde was pouting with a nervous glint in her eye. Softening immediately under her gaze Santana encircled an arm round her waist and pressed a gentle kiss to the other girl's lips.  
Brittany grinned lazily in to the kiss and Santana could taste the intoxicants on her breath. "You want me to make it up to you?" Brittany whispered seductively. Santana almost let out a whimper, post-gig sex was probably her favourite kind after make-up sex. Mike coughed uncomfortably behind them and Brittany giggled, pulling Santana to their tiny bedroom and pushing her forcefully down on the bare mattress.

Half an hour later the two girls lay entangled in each other, Santana stroking Brittany's hair and Brittany drawing shapes on Santana's bare stomach with her fingers. "San?" Brittany whispered apprehensively, breaking the comfortable and exhausted silence between them.  
"Yeah Britt?"  
"Can we stay like this forever?"  
"Fuck no, once Plates' gets a shit hot record deal we'll be doing it in kingsize beds every night." Santana replied, teasing a strand of blonde hair between her fingers. Brittany poked her stomach playfully, "Hey! I'm being serious. You and me, forever. Right?"  
"Right Britt." Santana said happily, kissing the top of her girlfriend's head before dozing in to a contented slumber.

* * *

That weekend Santana, Quinn, Puck and Mike played another set in another seedy club while Brittany kept her eyes locked adoringly on Santana from the bar the entire time. After the band had finished their set and packed away their instruments they made their way over to join Brittany and order their usuals.

As Puck was draining his first beer a pair of strong hands placed themselves over his eyes and a young woman's voice cried out over the rabble of the crowd. "Guess who!" To his right Santana spat out her first gulp of jagermeister and yelled "Well if it isn't Rachel fuckin' Berry!"  
Puck spun round and took in the sight of the ever vertically-challenged Rachel Berry and whooped, picking her up and whirling her around. "I'm not a fucking doll Noah!" she yelped but she was clearly enjoying the attention.

Mike and the two blondes had by now noticed the arrival of their old high school friend and embraced her tightly. "How did you even know to be here?" Puck yelled over the noise of the club.  
"Birthday! Tomorrow!" she yelled back, pointing at Santana, whom thankfully for Puck was facing the bar and ordering a second jagermeister. "Brittany called me." Rachel continued and Puck nodded in understanding, at the same time mentally kicking himself for forgetting. Brittany was kissing her girlfriend's ear playfully, Santana giggled and turned round to meet the blonde's lips with her own. Puck however smirked at the mischievous look on Brittany's face which clearly said she had been making it as difficult for Santana to overhear as possible.  
"Actually it's in half an hour." Quinn interjected, suddenly at Puck's elbow and jerking her thumb towards the clock above the bar which said 11:32pm. Puck swallowed, his throat was suddenly as dry as sandpaper and he ordered another drink.

"What am I gonna do? She'll kill me!" He gasped.  
"We knew you'd forget, we have it all figured out." Quinn reassured him with a wink and to the surprise of everyone around them Puck leant down and kissed her full on the lips.  
"Did I ever tell you that I love you Fabray?" he yelled over the loud music. Quinn blushed and hit him round the side of the head.  
"No, it's about fucking time!"

* * *

After they'd all had a couple of drinks they made to return to the apartment in time for midnight. As they were leaving they had to stop outside the club for a moment so Brittany could throw up, not being on stage like the others she'd already been drinking steadily over the course of the evening.

She leant against the concrete wall for support and Santana held her hair back, whispering soothing words of comfort in her hair whilst rubbing her other hand gently up and down Brittany's back.  
"Shhh, don't cry babe, it happens to the best of us." the band's lead guitarist and vocalist was saying. Brittany only sobbed harder as she wiped her mouth, "But I'm spoiling your birthday!" she cried. Santana cupped Brittany's face in her hands so that she was forced to look her in the eye.

"Hey." she said seriously. "You're the best damn thing that ever happened to me, when my watch tells me it's midnight I'll be thanking my lucky stars I'm looking at another year with the most beautiful girl in the world. Got that?" Brittany stopped crying and gave a small smile that still made Santana's heart feel like it was going to punch its way out of her ribcage even after all the years they'd known each other.

As they were waiting to hail down a cab Rachel noticed a pair of girls teetering in high heels outside the club taking pictures of the group of six friends. She felt uneasy, she didn't like the way they were pointing at Brittany leaning weakly against Santana at the side of the road.  
"Noah." she whispered, nudging him discreetly. He swept his eyes along the road for a cab once more before training them on Rachel. "What is it?" he grunted.  
"Look at those girls." she replied quietly. By then Quinn had also noticed the faint clicking of their camera and squinted through the dim light of a flickering streetlamp at them. "What are they doing?" she asked, pulling her coat up around her ears anxiously. Puck on the other hand chuckled and smirked.  
"They're obviously fans who couldn't get in, look at the size of 'em! Clearly not even legal yet." he observed.  
"Neither are any of us." Rachel pointed out.  
"We have fake IDs though." Puck countered with a smug grin.

Quinn took a step backward and slipped her hand in to Puck's. "I don't like it, not with Brittany like that." she whispered, nodding behind her at the other blonde who still had her head buried in to Santana's neck.  
"If Santana sees them taking pictures, she'll freak." she continued nervously.  
Sure enough when the girls saw Puck giving them an encouraging smile (Quinn punched him, hard) they took a few steps closer, continuing with their picture taking and alerting Santana to their presence.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she snapped, protectively tightening her grip on Brittany. One of the girls backpedalled immediately, dropping her trapper cap and biting her lip. Her companion however, swung the camera towards Santana and Brittany and began chattering excitedly. "You're Spinning Plates!" she exclaimed, her hands visibly shaking. "No shit. What do you want?" Santana snarled.  
"We're like, your biggest fans."  
"Congrats, you can like, fuck off." Santana said wearily, but the girl took another step forward, unperturbed.  
"Is your name really Satan?" she asked, practically spraying Santana as she waited for a reply.  
"My name is really shut-that-damn-camera-off-before-I-acquaint-it-with-YOUR-face." she said, her breath rattling in the cold air as she tried simultaneously to both support Brittany's swaying form and shield her from the lens of the camera.

"Santana calm down." Rachel said with as much authority as she could muster under the present circumstances and how much alcohol she had consumed.  
"Your real name is Santana? That's like so totally cool, a guitarist named after a guitarist!" the young girl was now saying, raising her camera again. Santana looked like she was about to fly for the girl but Mike stepped forward, holding a roll-up between his fingers. "Hey girls, you wanna give the camera a rest and relax a little?" he said, giving them his best imitation of a Puck-wink.

"Dude what are you doing?" Puck whispered apprehensively as the girl nodded and even her friend took an uncertain step forward. "It's the strongest stuff I have, a few puffs of this and we'll be able to shove them in a cab with no trouble whatsoever." Mike whispered back, pulling out his lighter. Puck didn't look convinced but it was definitely a better idea than Santana dealing with them.  
While Mike chatted to the girls Puck approached Santana who was glaring at them venomously. "What the fuck is Mike doing?" she snapped at him.  
"Getting them high so we can lose them." Puck explained, looking nervously up and down the road. Santana sighed dramatically and gave Brittany a gentle shake so that she was almost fully supported by Santana. "We're not getting a cab then?" she asked after a pause.  
"I guess not, we'd never get one that will fit all of us and the gear anyway." Quinn said, coming to stand with them while Rachel stood with Mike and the fan girls.  
"It's locked in Puck's fucking truck round the corner, which we'd be taking if any of us were sober enough to drive." Santana replied irritably. Puck sighed and put an arm round Quinn. "Right, so let's walk. Do you need a hand?" he asked, indicating the half-conscious blonde draped across Santana's shoulder.  
"I got this thanks." she replied icily. With amazing strength for someone of her height and build Santana nudged Brittany in the ribs and hoisted her up on to her back, whispering for her to hold on tight. Just conscious enough to clasp her hands around Santana's neck Brittany gave a contented sigh and closed her eyes again.

Santana whistled sharply and Mike whipped his head round immediately, "Sup?"  
"Let's move, these losers don't want to wait on a cab." she croaked with some difficulty. Carrying Brittany wasn't an impossible feat nor new experience to Santana but it definitely wasn't the easiest task in the world. Mike nodded and gestured to the two girls who looked as though they would wet themselves any second, one out of fear and the other from sheer excitement.  
As the eight teens walked through the rapidly darkening streets Santana led them deeper and deeper in to the maze of alleyways which were infamous in their end of the city. Quinn grew uneasy and tightened her icy fingers around Puck's hand. Her eyes darted around constantly and she strained her ears listening for any sounds present other than the incessant giggling of the two strange girls and Mike's lame jokes.

"Santana, I don't like this." she began, catching up with Santana at the front of the group.  
"Neither do I, do girls their age ever shut the fuck up?" the livid brunette replied breathlessly.  
"They're not that much younger than us, and I meant the way you're taking us back to the apartment, couldn't we have gone closer to a main road?" Quinn asked. Santana looked at Quinn as though she was stupid.

"Are you kidding Fabray? Mike is funneling marijuana fumes in to their little schoolgirl lungs, you do know that's 'frowned upon' by most cops around at this time of night don't you?" She said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Quinn considered the point, biting her lip. "I know but, it can be really dangerous back here."  
"I hear it's really dangerous in jail too Quinny, they'll fuck you in the showers whether you're queer or not." Santana shot back, keeping her eyes ahead of her.  
"Shut up, can we please just get out this fucking alley? It's giving me the creeps." Quinn pleaded. Santana stopped and everyone behind her crashed in to Puck. "What the fuck San? Keep walking maybe?" he whined, rubbing his backside where Rachel had careered headfirst in to it.

Before Santana could answer however they were surrounded by four men in balaclavas and hoods. Two of them were carrying led pipes and the one nearest Mike and the two girls grinned as the moonlight glinted on the polished barrel of a revolver.  
"Good evening ladies." he sneered, starting to pace up and down as the group backed slowly in to the brick wall behind them.  
"I fucking told you." Quinn whispered angrily to Santana who looked as though she was about to throw up.

"You got something to say blondie?" the gangleader cooed at her. Puck's fist clenched but Quinn squeezed his arm as a way of warning and he did his best to relax.  
"What do you want?" Rachel said out of nowhere, standing up as straight as she could and fighting back the petrified tears at the back of her throat.  
"Everything. Your wallets, your keys, your drugs... your whore." he said trailing off and looking pointedly at the unconscious Brittany slumped on Santana's back. Until he said that Santana had been in full survival mode, utterly terrified for no one but the girl she was carrying, wanting nothing more than to be out the stupid fucking alley and away from that gun.  
But when he made the mistake of calling Brittany a whore Santana saw red and Brittany slipped off her back in to Quinn's arms and she launched herself forward at the gangleader. Luckily Puck had turned to her the moment the word "whore" left the thug's mouth and thrown his strong arms around Santana's arms and torso, rendering her unable to do nothing but spit and spew a stream of Spanish expletives.

"Back the fuck up you stupid bitch or I'll blow her fucking brains out." the man snarls. Santana stopped moving entirely, as though she were solid ice or petrified wood. The man took a step towards Santana, his gun hanging by his side, and he brought his face right up to hers.  
She could feel his beer-stained breath washing over her skin and a new wave of nausea pulsed through her system. All she can think about is how much she hates herself for bringing her friends. For bringing Brittany, down this fucking alley.  
The silence is tight enough to cut glass as the man grabbed Santana's chin in his hand, squeezing her jaw firmly. For a moment it looks as though Puck is going to take a swing but the pleading look in Santana's eyes stops him.  
"You know what boys, blondes are pretty boring these days. What do you say we take this little bitch for a test run instead?" the man wondered aloud, causing his companions to snigger and take a step closer.  
As Quinn watches the scene unfold before her movement to her right catches her eye and everything seems to fall in to slow motion. Turning her head she sees the girl with the camera moving, not running away, not ducking down, twisting her body past Mike, towards Santana and the man with the gun.  
_Don't be a hero for your hero. _Quinn pleads inside her head. _Don't be a fucking hero for us._

But it's too late and her hand is flying towards the man's stomach. It's too late and the startled thug is throwing Santana to the ground. It's too late and a single gunshot can be heard faintly a few blocks away by the regulars smoking outside Valerie's.

Brittany could hear screaming, angry yelling, and she could smell blood. Lots of blood. Opening her eyes she saw Santana grabbing her and pulling in to an embrace so tight she could barely breathe. Opening her eyes properly she took in the scene around her.  
Three strange men seem to have rounded on a fourth and were pushing him furiously in the direction of a fire escape. Looking to her left she saw Puck slowly picking up a discarded item on the blood spattered ground. A gun.

"Puck what the fuck are you doing!" Mike was shouting, Puck didn't seem to be listening though, they'd threatened Santana. The one girl he'd been able to trust more than anyone in the entire freakin' planet since she squeezed out his juicebox in to the sandpit in first grade. After taking aim a bullet left the gun for the second time that night.  
"Put the fucking gun down!" Quinn was screaming as the shot ricocheted off the fire escape and went skittering in to the darkness behind them. Brittany closed her eyes again. Even though she wasn't thinking about anything other than the fact one of her best friends was firing a fucking gun, Santana took Brittany's hands in her own and kissed her shoulder.

Rachel was trying to quell the cries of the hysterical fan girl, crouching down by her bleeding friend. Nothing seemed to work though as even Rachel was hyperventilating at the sight of so much blood. "Noah!" she yelled. Hearing his first name somehow brought him back to reality and he swung round to look at Rachel. His eyes darted to the girl lying on the ground, then to the gun in his hands. The girl, and back to the gun.

He felt Quinn's hand on his shoulder and he finally came to his senses, dropping the gun to the stone floor with a clatter. "We have to go, now." a voice was saying in his ear. He turned to face his companions and remembered there was a girl lying on the ground in her own blood, probably dying.  
Rachel had already dialled 911 and thrust the phone in to the hands of the girl's friend. "Rachel, seriously? You're fucking making her take the call?" Quinn asked incredulously. Rachel looked up at them all with dark eyes before dragging herself to her feet and whispering to her friends. "If we get involved in this it's over for all of us."  
"Are you fucking crazy Berry? We ARE involved, that girl just got shot and it's our fucking fault." Quinn replied in a low yet furious voice. Rachel glared at her before bending down and gingerly picking up the still-warm revolver with her sleeve.  
"Yeah, she's just been shot with the gun Puck's just fucking fired."  
"So we're just gonna run?"  
"What other choice do we have? Even without the gun I know Mike and Santana will be carrying at least ten grams of coke between the pair of them, it is a gig night after all." Rachel was saying. Santana clenched her fist, reluctantly absorbing the information and realizing that Rachel was right.  
"Berry's right, if we stick around for the cops showing up we're all screwed." she said through gritted teeth. Quinn stared at her as though she'd gone crazy.

"Are you serious Santana?"  
"Deadly, pull yourselves together and take the next left, Mike knows the way from there." she replied, jerking her head to the alley behind them. Nudging Brittany again she looked pointedly at Mike who took her from Santana in his arms like an exhausted toddler and nodded for the rest to follow him.  
"What are you doing Santana?" Quinn asked as Santana pushed her towards Mike.  
"Cleaning up this mess, I won't be far behind."  
"Don't do anything stupid." she warned. Santana simply swallowed and jerked her head towards Mike again. Reluctantly Quinn followed and Santana was left with the sobbing girl still clutching Rachel's cellphone whilst vainly attempting to the stem the flow of blood.

"I'll need that back." Santana said quietly. Seemingly noticing that she was very much alone with her wounded friend and Santana, the girl looked up with fear scarred in to her features and shakily held the phone out to her.  
Santana pocketed it then knelt down on the other side of the girl lying on the floor. "What's your name?" she asked softly.  
"Sophia." the girl said as though she thought Santana were crazy for asking that question in their current situation.

"Sophia, pretty." Santana mumbled, then picking up the gun which lay only a foot away she suddenly slammed Sophia in to the brick wall behind her, pressing the barrel of the gun under the petrified girl's chin.  
"Here's the deal, Sophia. You're gonna get in that ambulance when it gets here, you're gonna go with your friend to the hospital. When you get there there's gonna be police swarming round you, they're gonna be asking you questions. Know what you're gonna tell 'em?" Santana said this all very carefully so that Sophia couldn't possibly have missed a word. The girl shook her head and Santana pressed the barrel further in to the girl's jaw and she gagged slightly.

"Wrong answer. You're gonna tell 'em about those fucking assholes that just shot your friend. You're gonna tell them you were on the way to the subway station, you're gonna tell them you've never even fuckin' heard of Spinning Plates, let alone seen them. And the same goes for our two friends. With me so far?" Santana growled. The girl nodded this time and Santana gave her an encouraging smile.  
"Good, because if you ever tell anyone. And I mean anyone, that you saw us tonight." Santana paused for a moment, her finger stroking the trigger of the gun in such a way that Sophia's eyes followed the movement, mesmerized. Then Santana put her face so close to the girl's their eyelashes were almost touching, and whispered chillingly "I'll kill you with my bare fucking hands."

With that Santana dropped the girl and pocketed the gun, before running faster than she'd ever run in her life.


	3. Part Three: Transmission

**Update: Dear readers, I appreciate each and everyone of you and your patience with me in this story which is obviously still in its "baby stages". However recently it's taken on a different direction than from that I originally intended; I don't feel that with the direction its headed in right now I can finish it to your or my satisfaction. In short I won't be updating this story anymore. Thank you for taking the time to read these first three chapters.**

* * *

By 2pm on Friday night Brittany was growing worried, Santana never ever ignored her messages. Especially not important ones. She occasionally took a random trip to see Puck and Mike in San Diego to catch up but she always let Brittany know, and anyway she was convinced Santana had mentioned she was taking a couple of extra shifts at the club during the coming weekend.

She flipped open her cell and hit Santana's number on speed dial. After several rings she hung up and found the number of 'Fabray's Talent Agency' in her address book, she chuckled while it rang as she remembered a drunken conversation her and Santana had had about the name when Quinn first set up the business.

_"I know Quinn's not always the most creative of people but Fabray's Talent Agency is seriously lacking in any imagination." Santana had laughed, opening another bottle of beer and crossing her legs over Brittany's lap. Brittany had snatched Santana's keys impatiently from her for the bottle opener on them and attemtped to open her own.  
"I know right? She should have called it 'Find Fame with Fabgay' or something." she replied with a giggle. Santana had laughed at Brittany's use of her nickname for Quinn and flicked her bottle cap at the blonde playfully._

Her thoughts were interrupted by Quinn's secretary bleating down the phone "...is in a meeting with a client right now, can I take a message?" the voice of a young girl was saying. Brittany shook herself and remembered she was calling for a reason.

"Um, is she going to be long? It's sort of important." she mumbled.

"She asked not to be disturbed, may I ask who's calling?" the girl said.

Tell her Brittany Pierce is on the line." Brittany replied with more confidence, remembering she was highly thought of in Hollywood and that any employee of Quinn's probably knew who she was. There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"I'll let her know straight away Ms. Pierce." the girl said apologetically.

After a few minutes Brittany could hear a furious Rachel Berry on the other end. "I don't care if it's Britney Spears on the phone, Quinn! I wanted that part!" Brittany rolled her eyes at the Britney comment but continued waiting patiently until Rachel's yells died down and she presumably stormed out as Brittany heard the faint sound of a door slamming.

"Brittany?" Quinn said breathlessly as she picked up the phone hurriedly.

"Hey Q." Brittany said brightly.

"You said it was important?"

"Oh right, sorry. I uh, I was wondering if you knew where Santana was? She's ignoring my calls and she never called me back when I left a message on her answering machine." Brittany blurted out as quickly as she could, suddenly feeling silly for interrupting a meeting to discuss Santana's unreliability at staying in contact with her friends.

"Um, she's probably asleep right now remember? She was working last night. What's the rush anyway? Do you have something important to tell her?" Quinn asked, holding her breath and praying that Brittany wasn't about to inform Quinn she'd broken up with her boyfriend. There was almost a thirty second pause before Brittany replied.

"N-no, I just wanted to see her." she said unconvincingly, which worried Quinn.

"Can't it wait till tomorrow night? You do remember it's the anniversary this weekend? You know she'll be drinking every night till then." the agent said in a slightly bored tone. Feeling stupid for forgetting Brittany blushed and mumbled in to the mouthpiece.

"Um sure, can you remind her to check her answering machine?" Brittany said quietly, not trusting herself to open her mouth too widely in case she started crying.

"Sure thing Britt, though I don't see what's so important that it can't wait another twenty-four hours."

"Wait, did you say Santana's working this weekend?" Brittany asked.

"I said she was working last night, but yeah she's covering Skillet's shift tomorrow night too. Look Britt, I gotta go, client on the other line." Quinn answered quickly, placing the phone down as quickly as she could and taking several deep breaths and calling out to her receptionist.

"Rose, triple espresso in my office, stat."

* * *

Santana had been wandering the south side of L.A. all morning, her faded leather jacket shielding her from the strong breeze which had started up around 10am and refused to dissipate.

Woofer had woken her up at some unGodly hour and when the mail arrived she received a shock. A letter from her brother. She had stared at the handwriting on the envelope for a full five minutes before bending over the kitchen sink and retching.

The last time she had heard from her brother was seven years ago. The night before Spinning Plates had played their last gig she called him, begging him to come and see them play.

_"Will she be there?" he asked._

_"If you mean Brittany, my girlfriend then yes. Of course she'll be there."_

_"Don't call me until you've stopped this." he replied coldly. _

That was the last time she spoke to him. Her parents had passed away a few years previously, passing a small inheritance to the both of them and the same fundamental intolerance for Santana's "life choices" to her brother.

Needing air and copious amounts of caffeine more than she needed a brother for the time being she left the unopened letter tacked to the fridge and took a walk. At around 11:30 she found a quiet café and ordered a latte, Quinn would shake her head in shame if she could see her right now. Like they had done in their early days in L.A. the pair always stuck to fresh, strong filter coffee. The smooth texture of the milkier drink soothed her however and it was a welcome relief, her thoughts had been racing since she left her apartment.  
After reading every paper in the damn café Santana pulled out her cell and hit the fourth number on her speed dial.

Meanwhile in San Diego Noah Puckerman received a rude awakening when his roommate Mike Chang threw his cellphone on to his bed, hitting him on the head.

"Fuck! Mike, what the hell was that for?"

"Satan's on the phone." Mike replied before disappearing in to their small kitchen, presumably to make breakfast. Puck groaned and picked up his phone, putting it reluctantly to his ear.

"What time do you call this Lopez?" he grunted with clear resentment in his voice.

"The fucking afternoon?" she replied crossly. Puck sat up, he could tell straight away there was something more to her bad mood than the time of day.

"Speaking of which, why are you up and about at this time? Not working last night?"

"I was, and with Claire."

"Good night?" he asked, there was a pause.

"It was okay." Santana replied quietly. This caught Puck's attention more than the fact Santana Lopez was wide awake before 4pm.

"You don't sound too sure." he said, trying to keep his voice down so that Mike wouldn't hear him.

"It was fine really, the past few days have just been a little... weird." Santana replied awkwardly.

"How do you mean?"

"A few things, I didn't even get off last night." Puck sat up straight so quickly he hit his head off of the metal bed frame.

"MOTHERFUCKER!" he yelled, rubbing the back of his head furiously.

"I'm not her mother as you're well aware but okay." Santana said tonelessly.

"You're not even being funny Lopez, what's up?" he asked, grimacing at the lump already forming on his crown.

"I just- I need to talk to you, can you head to L.A. a little earlier?"

"How early is earlier?" he ventured cautiously.

"Like, as soon as Mike has finished making your waffles."

"Got it, stay cool Lopez."

"Yeah whatever Puckerman." After she hung up Puck rolled out of bed and picked up his overnight bag.

"Mike, make those to go! We're heading out in twenty minutes." Mike poked his head out of the kitchen looking confused.

"Why? Neither of us have showered or anything." he said frowning.

"We can freshen up at Satan's place, just be ready to leave soon."

"Got it."

* * *

Quinn didn't remember how she got where she was but knew it was dark and very, very cold. Pulling herself to her feet she raised a hand in front of her face but she couldn't even make it out an inch away from her eyes. She sighed exasperatedly and slowly placed one foot in front of the other, feeling her way around blindly in the pitch darkness.

Just as she found some sort of rhythm in exploring her surroundings through touch she heard a faint echo.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice sounding strangely muffled. The echo resonated again, this time louder and Quinn recognized it as a girl's laughter.

"Santana?" she called out uncertainly. The laughter grew louder and seemed to be coming from every direction. Quinn took a step backwards and slipped in to a pool of liquid on the ground. Lifting her hand up again she could smell blood just as a gunshot pierced through the laughter, then after a moment of silence muffled yelling could be heard.

"Ms. Fabray! Ms- Quinn! Quinn!" Snapping back to consciousness Quinn realized Rose was shaking her awake in her office for the second time that week. Taking in the sunlight streaming through her windows and the comforting pile of paperwork on her desk she rubbed her eyes.

"What is it?"

"I came in to give you your messages and you were shaking and twitching, I thought you were having a fit or something." Rose mumbled sounding very shaken up. Quinn smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

"I'm fine Rose, really. It was just a bad dream." she said, sitting up straight in her chair and inwardly groaning at the stack of messages from Rachel that Rose had deposited on her desk.

"How many times has she called?"

"About six."

"And you told her I wasn't to be disturbed?"

"She kept yelling something about the... anniversary?" This caught Quinn's attention, it was something they never spoke of outside the six of them.

"She what? Excuse me Rose I should probably call her back." Quinn said angrily. Taking the coffee Rose was holding out to her and picking up her phone. Rose mumbled something about her break and Quinn waved her away telling her to take the afternoon off.

On the third ring Rachel picked up.

"Hello? Quinn?"

"Yes, what the fuck do you think you're doing bringing up the anniversary on the phone to my freakin' secretary?" Quinn snapped.

"Honestly Quinn it's been seven years. What negative repercussions could possibly come as a result of my mentioning it to YOUR secretary. We're not exactly subtle you know, all meeting at Valerie's on the same day to catch up and leave completely inebriated." Rachel replied smoothly.

"It's Santana's birthday as well if you didn't remember." Quinn said through gritted teeth, annoyed that everyone seemed to be forgetting.

"Exactly, why would people be suspicious?" Rachel said shortly. Quinn rubbed her forehead with her thumb and forefinger and gave a sigh.

"Forget it, why did you call?"

"I was wondering if we were still meeting on Saturday." she said.

"Why wouldn't we still be meeting on Saturday?" Quinn asked with evident surprise, taking a large gulp of coffee.

"I don't know, I- uh, I just uh..."

"Spit it out Berry, I've got work to do."

"I sort of have a date on Saturday night, with Finn Hudson." Quinn frowned and put down the pen she was doodling on her address book with.

"The actor?"

"No, the mailman, of course the actor."

"Nice one Rach, but you'll have to cancel."

"I don't see what the big deal-"

"The big deal is we're your best friends and this is all we ask of you once a year."

"Quinn, come on." Rachel was beginning to whine and it only irked Quinn further.

"No Rach, unless you wanna be the one to tell Santana."

"I'm sure I could talk her round..."

"That's bullshit and you know it, just be there on Saturday. Valerie's, eight o'clock." Quinn said as she stood up and drained her coffee cup.

"Fine, but mark my words Quinn Fabray I am finding another agent one of these days-"

"Whatever Rachel, I have to run, ciao!" Quinn yelled down the phone then slammed it down and sat back in her chair to mull over what Rachel had said. She didn't like it, she liked Finn well enough from what she'd seen of him, sure. But they never invited anyone surplus to Santana's birthday celebrations. It was always the one time of the year that all six of them came together to remember and be together. To remember why they weren't together.

Suddenly her phone began ringing and she jumped in her chair.

"Jesus." she whispered, mentally kicking herself for getting so worked up and answering with her most business-like "Quinn Fabray's personal line. May I ask who's calling?"

"Are you alone?" a deep, guttural whisper floated through the phone line and Quinn's blood seemed to chill at the very sound of it. Her eyes darted around her office, behind her out the window over looking the city and the door through which Rose had left only five minutes ago and I wouldn't be returning through for another day. Forcing herself to stay calm she put on her best I'm-Santana-Lopez's-best-friend-and-plenty-of-her-badassness-has-rubbed-off-on-me voice and replied steadily.

"Who are you and what do you want?" There was a hiss and some crackling on the other end of the line.

"To take you out for dinner."

Santana.

Quinn took a very deep breath. Then another, and another. She still flipped her shit.

"Santana what the fuck are you doing scaring me like that!" she yelled down the phone, practically spitting all over the mouthpiece.

"D'aww did I scare poor Quinny bear?" Santana said with a mischievous giggle. Santana Lopez was giggling.

"Are you drunk?"

"Slightly, Puck and Mike are here. When can we pick you up for dinner?" Santana said with only the tiniest slur to her speech. Quinn rolled her eyes.

"I didn't realize they were gonna be here this early." Quinn said, choosing to avoid the question.

"I asked them to come early, missed them. Dinner?" Santana asked again, less coherently.

"You can't drive." Quinn pointed out.

"Mike is sober."

"Fine whatever, but please don't be too inebriated when you get there, I have stuff to talk to you about."

"Me too. We'll swing by in an hour. Later Q-ella."

"Later Satan." Quinn said fondly, unable to suppress a smile. She replaced the phone in its cradle and sat back in her chair, leaning far back so that she was looking through the glass windows of her office upside down. She gave a sigh and for what was perhaps the tenth time that day, zoned out and watched the world go by.

* * *

Santana was on to her seventh glass of jagermeister while Mike rearranged the furniture in her apartment for more space and Puck carefully examined the contents of her fridge. He pulled out a bottle of mineral water and went over to sit next to her on the sofa while Mike showed them some crazy break dancing moves Santana always demanded on their visits.

Puck waited till Santana had drained her glass before opening the bottle of water and handing it to her wordlessly. Santana stared at it for a moment as though contemplating pushing it away, but then gave a little sigh and grabbed it from him.

"So what's this about?" Puck asked.

"What?"

"Why did you drag us up here four hours early?"

Santana took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, Mike looked up and took a seat on the arm of the sofa next to her and put his arm around her.

"I got a letter from my brother this morning."

No one spoke for a full three minutes.

"What did it say?" Puck asked eventually.

"I haven't opened it."

"Why not?" Santana threw him a withering glance and he raised his hands up in front of him.

"Hey I'm sorry, I get it. But you need to read it sooner or later."

"Why?"

"Because it could be, and probably will be important. He's your family." Santana snorted and took another swig of mineral water.

"Like Hell he is. You guys are my family, you and Quinn."

"And Brittany." Puck reminded her.

"And Rachel." Mike added, poking her playfully in the ribs. Santana swatted his hand away but smiled nonetheless.

"Whatever. I don't wanna talk about it, I just... wanted you guys around. I miss you." she mumbled, blushing at looking down at her lap. Puck feigned shock and Mike put his hand over his mouth in a similar fashion.

"Santana Lopez, being sentimental?" Puck exclaimed.

"The world must be coming to an end," Mike sniggered.

"Shut up!" Santana picked up a cushion and whacked them both over the head; they grabbed her and tickled her mercilessly, causing Santana to shriek and kick her legs out helplessly. She wiped tears of mirth from her eyes when they eventually relented and pulled them in to an embrace.

"I can open it later, let's watch a movie or something before we have to pick up Q."

"Sounds good to me."

A couple of hours later a very much sober Santana sat in the passenger seat of Puck's car as the trio headed to the building where Quinn's office was located. It was raining and she traced the raindrops racing each other down the other side of her window with her finger; smiling at the childhood nostalgia it stirred.

"How's Quinn these days anyway?" Mike asked from the backseat.

"Do you guys ever call her?"

"Sometimes." Puck said in a voice that Santana took to mean Not really. She decided not to pursue the subject and simply answered the original question.

"She's good, still being driven crazy by Berry but you know."

They didn't talk much for the rest of the journey, the rain had only worsened so they stayed in the car while Santana texted Quinn to inform here they were waiting in the parking lot. Quinn appeared five minutes later with a battered looking umbrella and flustered expression. She opened Mike's door and he promptly shuffled across to the other seat to let her in.

"Hi!" She said brightly, hugging Mike and planting a kiss on Puck's cheek before sitting back to wipe the rain off of her briefcase and squeeze Santana's shoulder. Santana smiled and placed her hand on Quinn's for a moment.

"Gross, you're getting me all wet."

"You wish Lopez." Quinn said, grinning and leaning back in to the warmth of the car.

Quinn chatted animatedly with Mike and Puck as they headed to their favourite Breadstix chain and Santana simply lost herself in the comfort of her family. When they got to the restaurant and were seated Puck immediately ordered a bottle of wine and when it arrived stood up to make a toast.

"I would have preferred beer but whatever." Santana remarked coyly. Puck shushed her with a wave of his hand and picked up his glass.

"As we all know, tomorrow is our dearest Satan's birthday." This warranted many a confused look from their fellow diners but Puck continued as though he hadn't noticed.

"It's been... damn. About fourteen years now since I first got in to trouble with her, trying to hotwire her Dad's car and having her tell me 'You're doing it wrong, move over.' That wasn't the brightest idea she's ever had where it concerned me, and it definitely wasn't the last time we got pulled over for speeding or spent the night in a cell. But I sure as Hell wouldn't have had it any other way." Santana smiled as Puck took a deep breath and continued with his speech.

"Now that we're all grown up and eh, responsible. We can't really go around jacking cars or hotboxing in my uncle's camping equipment, but you're still the only chick that can drink me under the table and we all know that's what's important." he concluded with a wink, Santana laughed and went to chink glasses with him but Quinn held up her hand and got to her feet.

"Well, I could puke a load of anecdotes about me and Santana trying to get Rachel drunkenly tattooed, swapping Puck's tylenol for viagra-" Puck's eyes twitched but he couldn't suppress a smile. "- or releasing an orchestra of crickets in school during a basketball game."

She paused for a moment and looked Santana directly in the eyes, Santana grinned encouragingly.

"But that would be pointless since she loves talking about herself and has probably told you guys those stories a hundred times over by now. So I'll just say this: she can't make coffee for shit. She leaves me drunken voicemails detailing how many orgasms she's just caused. She still feels she is at an age at which prank-calling my office five times on a Saturday is acceptable because she is bored. But despite all this..."

"Awww get out the tissues!" Puck interrupted while Mike poked a blushing Santana in the ribs teasingly. Quinn frowned and cleared her throat.

"Shut up I'm not done yet! Despite all that, Santana Lopez is the closest I'll ever have to a human best friend."

Santana scowled at what must have been the millionth reference Quinn had made to her being the devil incarnate over the years, but stayed quiet while Quinn finished her speech.

"And though nobody else I know would trust Satan with their life, I always have and I know I always will."

With that she sat down and chinked her glass with everyone. She turned to Santana again and wasn't all that surprised to see Santana staring her straight in the eyes with a burning intensity.

"Are you okay?" She whispered as discreetly as possible. Santana opened her mouth slightly as though she was going to say something but then seemed to think better of it and closed it again. She cocked her head to the side and knitted her eyebrows together, as though trying to work out Quinn's intentions. Quinn said nothing.

After a moment she took a sip of her wine, held up her glass to Quinn and nodded. Quinn took this to mean "I love you too." and smiled in return before picking up her menu.

Once everyone had ordered, received and demolished their meals Mike brought up Santana's brother again, much to her displeasure. "So are you gonna open that letter?"

"What letter?" Quinn asked. Santana rolled her eyes at Mike and folded her arms.

"A letter from my brother." Quinn's eyes widened and she frowned questioningly, Santana simply shrugged and refilled her wine glass.

"Stop being so childish and just open it already." Puck sighed. Santana looked up sharply with a livid expression on her features.

"Fuck off Puck, you're one to talk about being childish."

"Wow, I'm sorry, but you know you'll have to open it sooner or later."

"You can open it if you care so much." she snapped, opening her purse and throwing the letter across the table. Puck looked surprised but picked up the envelope all the same and ripped it open. Santana looked away but Quinn knew she was listening intently.

"Are you gonna read it then?" Quinn asked.

"I think Santana should-" Mike began.

"It's fine. He can do it." Santana interrupted. Puck quirked his eyebrows but didn't waste any time in unfolding the letter and peering at the content. He scanned the page quickly then his face fell.

"What is it?" Quinn asked impatiently, tugging on Santana's arm in an attempt to make her look at Puck while he spoke.

"It's your aunt."

"Maria?" Santana said, suddenly looking up.

"Yeah, she- she passed away."

Santana felt sick, but only a little. She'd never been close with any of her blood relatives but no one had even contacted her to inform Santana she had been ill.

"When?"

"About two weeks ago, pneumonia. I'm sorry San." Puck slid the letter across the table to her and bowed his head. Mike reached out to place his hand on Santana's but then thought better of it as Santana stood up.

"I need a moment." She said, before dashing to the restroom, not even apologizing to the waiter she crashed in to in her haste.

Once away from the prying eyes of the other diners Santana let tears fall freely. She wasn't sure if she was crying because her aunt had passed away and she never got to say goodbye or because no one had bothered to contact her sooner. She didn't have long to think about it though as Quinn entered as Santana was splashing cold water on her face.

"Hey," she said gently.

"Hi," Santana croaked.

"How do you feel?" Quinn asked, reaching out and rubbing Santana's shoulder gently.

"Like I need a cigarette." She replied, closing her eyes and sighing. Quinn smiled a little and took her hand.

"Let's go then, the boys can talk about man-stuff or whatever."

Santana wiped her eyes and squeezed Quinn's hand. They didn't usually do the whole touchy-feely thing but lately, and especially now, she was grateful their friendship allowed exceptions.

"Yeah, okay."

Quinn had thought to bring Santana's bag with her and as soon as they stepped outside the restaurant in to the cold air Santana lit up one of her menthol cigarettes and took a long drag. Quinn said nothing and just stood there, being there, which she knew was all Santana really needed of her at that point in time.

After she'd smoked half of her cigarette she turned round and kicked the brick wall as hard as she could, before leaning back against it and taking another drag, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Feel better?" Quinn asked meekly.

"I guess," Santana said shortly. She took another couple of draws on her cigarette before throwing it to the ground and stamping on it vehemently.

They started walk back inside before Santana stopped in her tracks and bowed her head.

"They didn't even tell me she was sick, he didn't even fucking call." She said in an almost whisper, then continued on her way back in to the warmth of the restaurant without waiting for a reply.

Quinn knew she wasn't expecting nor wanting a reply in any case. Like in the restroom and so many other times in the past all Santana Lopez needed was for Quinn Fabray to be there.


End file.
